FYI, I Am A Spy
by Harry Miste
Summary: It's commonplace to find that a knife is in your back on the battlefield. - Rewritten


'Will that do?'

Blood poured out of the clean stab closed by a butterfly knife at the poor Engineer's backside. The man next to me took the cigarette dangling lit from his mouth and dropped it on the fallen techie. He looked at me with an approving smirk. 'Oh, that'll do.' An explosion rang out from behind us. The deceased's Sentry took a beating from his Sapper. Alarm bells rang out around the base like crazy. I took out the PDA in my pocket and flipped through the map.

'Shit, there's about five Pyro's coming down.' I pulled the knife out of the fallen Engineer's back, wiped it off with his overalls, and put it back into the little pouch on my belt. The man pressed the little headset on his ear.

'It's Ontarn. Preliminary strike team took out a sentry placement on the eastern bank. They know we're here. Start the assault ahead of time.' A small crackle of radio informed him of further instructions. 'Yes. Yes. Alright, I'll send Mason over.' Ontarn turned the radio off, and directed his attention towards me. 'You're good at this. There's a defensive team in the Intelligence room. Get rid of them and clear a path for our Scouts.'

'Alright.' I took the silenced pistol out and readied it, just as he taught me. Right index finger on the trigger, thumb and other four fingers wrapped around the butt of the gun, left hand supporting the bottom of the gun. 'Standard procedure?'

He nodded. 'Yes. Now go, and make me proud.'

I took out my PDA once again, punched in a few buttons and found myself disguised as the man I had just killed. Rushing out of the barricade, I manouvered through the sea of blue uniforms and heavy firepower. Being a Spy is hard enough without all those veterans skilled enough to detect Spies just by looking at them. With this in mind, I was dodging those who looked battle hardened; the scars, the aging, the upgraded weaponry, the look in their eyes that screamed _I've been through hell and back, and it's my life_. On the flipside, I was always covertly eliminating the newbies that hadn't seen action outside of media; the naieve healing, the bad strategy, the baseline arsenal, the eager eyes that yelled _I want action_. It was always easy, a quick push into a secluded room, a small slash of their throats. It helped me blend into the crowd by switching identities at will.

The base was scrambling around, giving reinforcements to the front lines as well as looking for the tricksters that breached the lines. I did my best to avoid Spy checking. All it took was one false move, and the disguise unravelled. Regular training for military service took three years, and Spy training added an extra two. Of course, I had excelled in the theory, and did very well in practice. It had taken me four years to begin service, ever since my father took me under my wing.

Oh, that guy that was with me? No, that wasn't my father. My father was a Medic. Kyle Ontarn was my mentor. If anybody had written the book on deception and assassination, then he must been the Lead Subject Expert, and the guy that wrote the foreword. He's been with Ol' Reliable Excavation Demolition for over thirty years. One may wonder how a 63 year old man can still fight on the battlefield, but I find it quite easy to understand.

After all, he's not fighting.

It was a full ten minutes scrambling around the chaotic base before I could find the Intelligence room. There were at least five people posted there: two Demomen, a Medic, a Soldier and a Sniper. Everyone seemed flustured, and they jumped when they saw me. However, to them, I was Dr. Abel Tenoff, respectable Medic with two tours of duties as a Medic under my belt. Given that I had been under the tutorage of a prestigious soldier, I was given special equipment ahead of time. One of them was a Disguise Kit that gave me a chance to have Spy check deflection. The Soldier was the one with the SC kit, and a quick sweep of the D-shaped object showed that I wasn't a Spy.

'Thank God,' the Soldier said, 'we've been panicking for fucking hours now.'

The Sniper piped in. 'I told you that 'ere gonna bring backup, and yet you don't believe me!'

'Shut up, will ya?' was the first Demoman's reply.

'Y-yes,' I said in a convincing tired German voice, 'perhaps we should save our anger for the enemy, _ja_?'

Everyone stood in silence. The Intelligence was on a pine desk, protected by the five unluckiest bastards on the planet at this very moment. They all scrambled around the room, even going so far as to have one Demoman keep watch outside. With him gone, four would be an easy task.

I decided to start with the Medic, who was dangerously close to deploying an UberCharge, a powerful tool that caused a brief stint of invulnerability. 'Harman,' I said, looking at his nametag, 'can I ask you a question?' I asked, keeping the faux voice in check. He meekly nodded, and my voice completely changed to my regular self.

'How would you like to die?'

His eyes stretched wide open, as if hooks were pulling them together. In a brief instant, I rid myself of the disguise, rushed to the back of the enemy Medic, grabbed him in a chokehold with my left arm and took out the Sniper and Soldier with my silenced pistol. The remaining Demoman screamed with fear. In my haste to clear the room as fast as possible, I'd forgotten about him. The Demoman pulled out his Grenade Launcher from the corner of the room, and aimed it at me. I pushed the Medic right into him, bumping both of them onto the ground. In one fluid movement, I took out the knife, pounced on the back of the Demoman, and stabbed him in the back. While I disapprove of a messy execution, I had no choice but to smash Harman's face onto the concrete floor, killing him quickly. The watchman came back into the room, and saw the mess I had created. He pulled out his Grenade Launcher, and fired two grenades right at me.

The standard time for a grenade fired by a custom-built M79 grenade launcher is aproximately 2.28 seconds. In order to properly activate a grenade, one must twist the cap and then punch the bottom down, mainly done by the grenade launcher. Thankfully, the inexperienced fuck hadn't properly set the grenades before starting patrol. When they hit the ground, they didn't activate. It was a common mistake, and one that cost a lot of lives.

I took the grenades, twisted the cap, and lunged at the Demoman and put it in his mouth. I jumped off him, and collapsed on the ground. Let's just say that I didn't see it, but I certainly don't want to remember what was on me.

On the floor, pressed against the concrete wall and covered in human flesh and blood, I hit the PDA again. This time, it shrouded me in a cloak of reflected light that kept me invisible to normal eyes. I hoped that nobody with heightened perception could see me.

I lifted myself up and hit the earpiece on my right ear. 'Mason here. The defensive units have been neutralised. You can proceed.'

'Roger, Mason. Get out of there, quick.'

A quick dial of a button on my watch, and I'm out of there.'


End file.
